If there is a world between worlds
And we should be neither opaque nor transparent
Walking alongside the living
But on a repeat loop,
Where will I haunt?
Will it be a dragged anchor of regret that keeps me?
Or some tightly held joy I am unwilling to release?
Shall my weary spirit see constant water or mountainside?
My joys and pains are composed of people,
Shall I repeat alone, with one, or with others?
How long will I repeat until transparency calls me fully?